


What He Said

by bettiebloodshed



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Character Death, F/M, I love the smiths way too much, M/M, Mates, We're going to pretend that everyone makes it out of season 2 alive, except not really, ghost!stiles, in which stiles dies but isn't really dead, there is no clay pot making, this isn't the movie ghost damn it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-07
Updated: 2012-08-06
Packaged: 2017-11-11 15:00:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/479753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bettiebloodshed/pseuds/bettiebloodshed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Stiles Stilinski dies in a car wreck (sort of). For some reason he comes back as a ghost, and can only be seen by one Derek Hale. </p>
<p>Maybe it's an alpha thing...or maybe it's something else. Stiles isn't sure why he can be seen, but all he knows is that there are 10 days to  bring him back to the world of the living, and with Derek being the only real help he's going to have, he's got to hope they can do this before they kill one another.   Or before other feelings get in the way. </p>
<p>[Canon compliant until 2X10, it will obviously diverge from that point on, as I don't know who is getting the axe in 2x12]</p>
            </blockquote>





	What He Said

Stiles was late.

Stiles was _never_ late. 

It was the latter fact that made Derek annoyed. Not worried, just annoyed. He might have been more concerned over Stiles sudden inability to make a pack meeting on time like the rest of them, but after Scott told him that Stiles was supposed to drive Lydia home before coming to the pack meeting, most of his emotions just slid to the side of frustration. 

Of course it would involve _her_. Derek had no issue with Lydia directly, but for someone like Stiles, she was like dangling a bright shiny object in front of a small child.

That was what annoyed Derek. Stiles, for all his faults, for all his idiocy, he was the smartest member of their pack, and his brain was the thing that had kept many of them alive. Derek could begrudgingly admit that now, a year after the resurrection and re-destruction of Peter, the incidents with the Jackson and his scaly-problem. And yet, at the sight of Lydia, he would be reduced to a blubbering dunce. The funny thing was, Derek was sure that Stiles realized that he had no real chance with the young woman--that he was only deluding himself into the idea as if it would protect him, somehow. Like going after something so far out of his reach was safer than something more attainable. Derek knew what it was like to get that 'unattainable' thing. It led to destruction and madness. It led to flames.

Shifting on the couch in the living room of his house (slowly being renovated--the living room was finished first), he looked over his pack, lips pressing together firmly, determined to focus on the task at hand, and not one particular human member of the pack who had decided to ditch them. Isaac and Erica were curled up against one another in a nearby loveseat, their heads nestled up against one another in silent companionship, as Boyd sat at their feet, hands absently stroking their legs. It would make him smile, if he had allowed himself that; they had settled in well to their roles, and despite the occasional bouts of frustration, he was still pleased with whom he had chosen to make his pack. 

It was about power, yes. But it was also about giving those who had nothing, something. It was how the best packs of old had started--born of mutual appreciation and care; bonds stronger than birth family. 

Assured that his three betas were comfortable, Derek let his eyes trail to Scott, a flicker of a frown pulling at his lips. Derek considered Scott part of the pack now, despite his infuriating desire to assert himself against the Alpha at the worst times. The werewolf was currently pacing, looking at his phone nervously.

“I’m worried--Stiles isn’t picking up his phone. That isn’t like him.”

Derek rolled his eyes, gesturing for Scott to take a seat. “No, that is more like you, isn’t it?“ He knew how often the other teen wouldn’t pick up the phone--usually when it involved time spent with one Argent.

“We can’t wait. If Stiles feels that we’re less important than one singular person, then that’s his decision.” That may have still been a dig against Scott, but he wasn’t going to let on if it was, completely.

Shifting in his seat, he pressed his hands against his knees, watching the gathering with a slight nod. They couldn't wait for Stiles--this didn't concern him, anyways. What Derek needed to discuss with him could wait until the end of the meeting, so as long as he showed up at all, it wouldn't be a complete loss. In the past few days Derek had scented something strange on the outskirts of town, and while he didn't want to worry the betas just yet, he trusted--what a loaded word--Stiles enough to set him out on research. Which, with enough threats and glares, wouldn't be shared with anyone.

“The full moon is next week, and I’m still not completely pleased with the amount of restraint you’ve been showing lately." Derek knew that they were all learning quickly, and could only be as good as their Alpha...but it wasn't good enough, not yet. Not with something knew on the horizon. They ne eded to be more careful. "Isaac, you almost got caught out by those partiers last month. I would rather not have to lock you up downstairs, again, but if you--”

The rest of his sentence was drowned out by the strains of ‘sexy and I know it’ coming from Scott’s phone.

Glaring at the offending technology, growled out. “Turn it off, Scott.”

“No it’s--”

_“I said turn it off._ ”

Scott, as usual, didn’t listen, and after shooting him a glare, picked up the phone.

“Stiles, hey man where are--

Lydia?”

Every ear in the room perked up at that, listening in on the conversation immediately.

_“God there is--I don’t know what happened!”_

She was sobbing, near hysterical. A pit started to form in Derek’s stomach, the one that he had felt at school, just before he found out his family had been burned alive.

The same one he felt when Laura went missing.

Scott must have been feeling something similar, because his voice raised up in tone, as if he was trying to keep himself calm, his heart noticeably picking up in pace.

“Just talk--slowly, where is Stiles?”

“ _He’s sitting over there--the police are here--the ambulance--_ ”

Derek’s fingers went to grip at the couch, eyes staying focused on Scott, not noticing how the other three members of the pack were now watching him, and how his claws were starting to dig into the leather.

“What do you--”

“ _He’s--He was fine, just talking about something, but then he gasped, and clutched at his chest--he was having convulsions. I've never seen anything like it, it wasn't right! We hit a tree and--_ ”

“You wha--”

“ _Oh **God** , Scott, he’s dead!_”

That was when Scott dropped the phone, letting out guttural sound, collapsing to his knees. Derek wanted to say something, that until they saw the body, they didn't know if it was true. That Lydia could be having hallucinations again, that something could have made her talk that way--that she could have _lied_. But he stayed silent, staring into nothing, only vaguely aware of what was going on around him; everything he could have said in that moment to dispute Stiles's death would have been a lie. Even through the phone it was obvious that Lydia believed she was telling the truth.

That Stiles, was well and truly dead. The brightest light snuffed out. That idiotic, stupid, brilliant light.

Derek sat frozen, again at a loss of how to react, of how to help a member of his pack with one of the worst devastation of his life. Nothing prepared you for this; Laura had never prepared him for _this_ \--to deal with loss as an Alpha. There were so many things he didn't know how to deal with, so keenly felt at times like these.

He was thankful then, for his betas. Boyd moved first, going to wrap his large arms around Scott, pulling him in close to his chest, letting the dark haired wolf dig his fingers into his chest. Isaac and Erica moved next, in tandem, curling up on each side of the mourning wolf, holding him close, sharing the loss, cradling him against each sob that wracked his frame. 

Derek didn't move towards them, but could only dig his claws further into the leather couch, and stifle the howl that bubbled up in his chest, the low and mournful sound.

Suddenly, he realized, that for the the third time in his life, he had lost something important long after it was already gone.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first fic I have written in literally years. This is just the main set up--things will start picking up after this. And as the tags imply, no Stiles isn't *really* dead. Next chapter will explain....some of it.


End file.
